


Perishable

by Thousandsmiles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fire, Gen, Graphic description of death by fire, pre-season 5 reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7081873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thousandsmiles/pseuds/Thousandsmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He screams. He pleads. He screams because it is the only thing he can do. He screams. Because that's the only thing you can do when you're being burned alive. My take on what happened when Parrish is burned. Written before we found out what he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perishable

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy. Warning for description of death by fire. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own teen wolf.

He screams. He pleads. He screams because it is the only thing he can do. He screams. Because that’s the only thing you can do when you’re being burned alive. He does not even notice when the plastic zip ties have melted. There is no escape from this. Not this.

He screams because he can feel it. Feel the heats as it rushes over his body in a hungry glee, feel the fire biting into his skin, chewing what it bit. And he screams because the pain is unbearable, indescribable, scorching, fierce and feral, fatal. He can feel the very instant the fire burns through his hair and starts on his skull. His skin scorches, cracks and allows the fire’s fingers to delve into his skull. It crisps his eyeballs. They burst and fluid leaks out only to be consumed almost immediately.

He still screams because his throat lasts far longer than his eyes. It is an idle thought that flits though his mind amidst all the chaos, the pain, the fear. He wonders if this is how the Hale family felt, trapped in their burning house. But it is fleet and is quickly engulfed by other thoughts much like the fire that is destroying him. 

He cannot believe he is going die. Cannot being that after surviving all that he has, survived bomb disposal, survived freaky ninjas, that this is how he is going to die. Taken off guard and killed by someone who was supposed to have his back. He never thought that betrayal was the way he’d fall. Or burn.

His feet are the last to catch fire and he barely feels it. There is a limit to pain it seems, and he has reached it. He screams and screams and screams and hopes that there is a heaven after all this because he can’t bear hell. Not if it’s like this.

He sucks in breath to scream again but all he takes in is fire. The fire scrambles down his throat and explodes into his lungs. He can hear things cracking and popping and he knows that some if it is him. He knows that that is his body is exploding outwards, fat crackling and cooking. He knows he is listening to himself being cooked in his own shattered skin. And he knows he won’t be listening to it for long. He lets out one last piercing scream. One last scream of pain and fear and regret for the life he is going to lose and blackness mercifully takes him.

* * *

 

The first thing he is aware of is breath going harshly down his passageways. He coughs instinctively and before he knows it he is hacking and coughing violently. When the coughing fit is over he blinks and rubs his eyes, both to clear the moisture from it, caused by his coughing fit and to clear whatever scratchy pieces of debris were in them. He blinks blearily around and takes stock of his surroundings.

Black twisted metal meets his gaze. In some places it is still glowing red. He is propped up on one elbow in the wreckage of his cruiser. The whole wreak still emanates heat. He coughs some more and tries to sit up properly. One of his legs hook on what he suspects is the remains of his seat. There are holes in the hood of the car. The front part of the car appears to have been blown out. There are dangerous pieces of metal sticking out at various places but Parrish himself seems to be remarkably unharmed. His clothes have bit the dust though. Or ashes, rather.

He struggles to his hands and knees, weakness flooding over him. His bones practically feel empty with the depth of tiredness he is feeling but he keeps going because that’s what they trained him to do. Keep going, keep moving. Don’t give up. So he doesn’t give up. He keeps moving until he reaches one of the doors of the cruiser. He can’t get it open with his hands so he is forced to spin and kick it open with his feet hissing every time his feet hits the hot metal. Finally he gets it open and crawls out only to cry out when his hands hit the still hot, still soft, tarmac. As soon as his feet hits ground he pushes himself to his feet and stumbles off until the ground becomes cool and then he collapses on it and just breathes.

After a few moments he tries to collect his thoughts. Tries to understand what had happened to him. It comes to him slowly. Being zip-tied to the steering wheel. Splashes of something on him. The fire. Oh goodness the fire. His thoughts shield away from the fire and slide to the next thing he remembers. Haig. Haig who knocked him out and tied him up. Haig, who set him on fire and watched him burn. Haig who wanted the five million Parrish was worth. Parrish pushed himself to his feet once more. Five million huh?  Parrish was worth much more than that and he was going to feed Haig every cent. With his fists.

Jordan Parrish began to walk.


End file.
